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Post by mdowenharper on Feb 14, 2011 21:42:30 GMT -5
Nights of boredom was bad for Cardiff, Owen Harper was out hunting for a piece of sweet flesh to take home. He heard the loud bass banging through the door of the dance club. He pulled the door open, to smell the smoke, the smell of people, perfume and the smell of the booze. It was your typical club. There were birds dancing close to their partners. There were some females grinding up against each other. So Owen had to watch that. One girl turned to the other and she French the other one. Now, that was entertainment and it cost him nothing yet. He thought tempting taking those two, but, he saw they were not into men as they glared at a male. They were the male haters. He had decided to avoid them but they were pleasant to the eye.
He slowly moved through the crowd and felt someone reached for his rear bumper and he turned to see it was man. That spooked him, he moved on. It was after all a night club. Some female stepped on his foot with her heel, and she spilled a few drips of her drink on his sleeve of his shirt. This had made Owen reconsider being at the club. He could have just paid some bird off the street. Why did he want to go through the work in here?
The bar was blocked by most females and males who are drinking, hanging out, taking a break from dancing or just waiting for someone to dance with. There was a beauty with flowing long blonde hair. Her hair was long down to her the back her knees. She was extremely full figure and plus more. He causally walked up to her with his coolness,
“I am here,” he slid up to her. She looked at him up and down. She wondered who he was. Owen had seen that look many times. He gave her a smile. He took out his perfume, and as he was going to use it on her the spray gone off spraying on her. He saw that and he was crying to stop it. It was he became the victim. He wanted her. She was the last thing on this planet. He needed her. He felt if he did not have her he would die.
So he grabbed for her. She was fighting him away. She was yelling no. That got many people notice. He got grabbed by some crowd, they pulled him away, he was fighting back because he had this drive to be with her and he had this extra strength to get to her.
BLAM!
He was knocked out on the head by someone.
Later he woke up in a jail cell. He was charged of rape the officer had told him. That was bad. He had never meant to that to happen. He had a terrible headache because of the hit to the head. He was going to be in trouble. He could hear it from Jack. Owen had the perfume in his hands the second time. So, he had to wait for Jack or someone from Torchwood.
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Post by indiansfan01 on Feb 16, 2011 10:22:10 GMT -5
BATTLEFIELD OF LOVE [/color][/font] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -[/b][/color][/font]  LOOK LIKE BABY CUPIDS SENDING ARROWS FROM ABOVE[/color][/font] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -[/b][/color][/font]
Tonight was finally the night. Ianto had been slowly falling under the impression that this dinner and a movie was never going to happen—that Jack had asked him out just because Jack had recently come back from wherever he had gone, had a former lover tormenting the team, and didn’t want Ianto to be too angry with him. Ianto wanted to be all sentimental and tell Jack that he could never be angry with him but that wasn’t true. Sometimes it sucked shagging a man who couldn’t die and could travel wherever he wanted to whenever he wanted to with his friends.
But Jack was making it all up to Ianto tonight. The dinner and a movie were really happening. And Ianto was determined to make this a night that Jack would never forget. He knew, though, that that was going to be awfully tough to do, seeing as Jack was going to live forever, and Ianto was sure that Jack had been on a lot more stimulating dates in the past and in the future than the classical dinner and a movie combination. Jack had sent the others home early, and Ianto had gone back to his home to pretty himself up, agreeing to be back at the HUB in an hour so they could take one car.
He had taken a quick show upon his arrival home and had gotten dressed into one of his best suits: black jacket, black pants, light blue dress shirt, and navy blue tie. It was one of Jack’s favorites. He had said something about it bringing out Ianto’s beautiful blue eyes. And Ianto was more than happy to please Jack with that suit tonight. After all, he wanted Jack to be staring into his eyes all night long. He didn’t want Jack to see all of the other humans in the restaurant. He didn’t want Jack to realize that there was a world beyond Ianto.
Ianto had made it back to the HUB right on time. The two of them had then made their way over to a small and fancy Italian restaurant. As they were seated, Ianto noticed the fact that they were turning many heads. Maybe Jack wasn’t the only one who thought his suit was splendid. People were no doubt thinking about what a stunning couple they were. Couple…Ianto loved that word. But, despite this date, he still wasn’t sure how to define his relationship with Jack. Things weren’t black and white between the two of them.
They had ordered their food; a glass of their finest red wine and fettuccine alfredo for Ianto. As they waited for their food, Ianto desperately tried his hardest to make small talk but when he found a little gap in the conversation, he said, ”I want to thank you for this, Jack. I’m glad that we…” Before he could finish his though, he heard a cell phone going off in the near vicinity. He took his out of his jacket pocket and saw that it wasn’t the culprit. ”It must be you,” he told his date as he put his cell phone back.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -[/b][/color][/font][/center] OUTFIT|| Here!
TAG|| Owen/Jack/Open
NOTES|| =)
CREDIT||LYRICS GO TO JAY SEAN. TEMPLATE WAS CREATED BY VALVAL OF CAUTION 2.0. STEAL AND YEW DIE. |
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Post by issildia on Mar 2, 2011 17:48:19 GMT -5
Are you lost in your lies
Do you tell yourself I don't realize
Your crusader's disguise
Replaced freedom with fear
The scent of sweat stained the cool night air in Cardiff, the odor of musk and salt mingling in her nostrils as a push of lightly frigid air swam about the vacant car park. Stars glimmered quietly overhead, faint pinpricks of blues, golds and greens, distant suns whispering of worlds untouched. Such wonder was lost to Issildia as the remote glittering of the constellations wheeling about Old Earth brought nothing but the grim reminder that her home was so very far away. Cobalt eyes resided on that glitzy nocturnal tapestry but for a moment before she stopped suddenly, the coat she wore swinging briefly about her legs with the abrupt halt.
Human voices sounded, bearing the strict pitch of one doing their duty, regimented and well rehearsed. The flicker of blue lights immediately alerting the composite humanoid to the presence of a gaggle of Old Earth police officers. They emerged from a concrete building surrounded with half rotted rubbish, the sound of music thrumming from within. A single onyx brow rising as she caught the image of a young man, evidently unconscious being drug out of the night club, his head lolling about as he was unceremoniously stuffed into the police car. A soft flickering of shadow and a slow uncoiling veil of dust was all that heralded Issildia’s disappearance from the edge of the adjoining car park.
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Wind slapped against her face now, blood streaming through her veins like a flood swollen river. She knew that man’s face from Old Earth’s histories, primarily that of the Institute. The one who had been arrested, a face that reminded you of a gaunt hard bitten dog. Air coursed in and out of her lungs with a practiced flex of the diaphragm to keep her heart beat even and un-stressed. Footsteps pounded against the angled shingles of a steep chapel roof, her body compensating for the moments when her boots did not find purchase on the slick surface. Every once and again her torso leaning in to set a hand on the slanting clay tiles to swiftly reassert her balance whilst never breaking her solid gait. The blue flicker of police car lights moving below her as her shaded silhouette followed in the wake of the vehicle.
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Owen Harper, field agent and medical officer of Torchwood Three, she recited mentally. The Cardiff office had been a blip in the history of the Institute after the fall at Canary Wharf. Her handler Rorek had seen to it that Issildia learned that this particular institution of Torchwood was nothing but an anomaly, an offshoot not to be considered a real part of the organization at any point in the group’s history. Owen Harper had an unusual history himself, thought Issildia was unsure of where this particular version of the man was in his timeline. Still she tracked him now not for the information she could procure from him; No indeed Issildia hunted down the man for the single reason of instilling a link between herself and Torchwood Three’s commanding officer, Captain Jack Harkness….
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~It smelt of fecal matter and blood inside the diminutive holding cells of the Cardiff detention center. Her exo-suit clad form emerging from a ceiling tile that had been removed due to some vent related repairs. Slowing, holding onto a solidly attached water conduit Issildia eased down into the vacant hall ribbed with at least a dozen barred cubicles designed to temporarily hold criminals. Her booted feet hit the floor with the slightest whisper of sound as her musculature absorbed the shock of the fall with practiced ease.
Immediately her body silhouetted as a splinter of moonlight against the obsidian hide of her exo-suit sunk away into the gathering shadows of the corridor. All of the interior lights of the Detention Center were turned off save for the glimmer coming from some distance office of the night guard round the corner.
Issildia’s senses were certainly not what one might consider superior to a human’s, but her genetics had been harvested from the best of humanity, and she was certainly able to catch the sound of breathing emanating from the cell nearest her position. Moonlight, coupled with the glow from the city streets illumined the holding cell via a small window with a single shaft of silvery light that just barely caught the form of a man within.
She acted boldly then, her voice silken with layers of arrogance and frost intended to bring a reaction out of the man she hunted.
“Owen Harper.” Issildia uttered, the words dripping with varying levels of disdain, a faint drawl of disappointment lingering over the utterance of his name. She was well aware of how the grey strands of moonlight were splayed about her image, allowing them only to crest the edge of her face, and the rim of her body. She was only just out of reach from the edge of the bars, the distance carefully calculated to dissuade the Torchwood medic from any rash actions.
“Torchwood’s finest…” She spoke that same disdain now darkened, laced with a silent venom. A pause stretching eternally between her next string of words, lingering against the echo of her first statement.
“What a disappointment you are…”
Words:862 Outfit: OutfitLyrics: Linkin Park, No More Sorrow |
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Post by mdowenharper on Mar 7, 2011 17:21:49 GMT -5
Owen Harper.
Jumping up from his seat, Owen was startled that he was not alone. The prisoned man saw a pale woman face floating in the shadows. He had never seen her before and he had wondered who she was. How did she get pass security? And why was she here.
Looking at her direction he could see she was well mended in the shadow. She was an expert in stealth. The man never met anyone who had the ability to pop out of thin air. He was feared her because he had nowhere to escape.
Torchwood’s finest she had given a compliment but it was a silky sneaky way. She seemed to have a snake quality in her movement. That had made Owen aware that he might not trust her.
He watched her as she had more to say. What a disappointment you are… squinting his eyes at her. “Not a good choice of words, madam,” he replied. The situation might be bad for Owen. What if she was a female who was out to get her revenge? No, he believed that wasn’t so.
Standing up, he stepped closer to her. “What do you want?”
[ooc not the greatest reply compare to yours. Sorry]
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